I'm a Slave Now? Pt. 06

This FICTION story contains elements of non-consent, bondage, abuse, humiliation and other darker types of kinks. If such things offend you, please do not read. This story is meant for entertainment only for those that can tell fiction from reality.

Everything seems to go to white as I think about all that has happened tonight. I've gone body and soul to a place where I can no longer really feel anything physical but emotional. A place where my body feels more alive than I ever believed.

The night started normal with me just wanting to go to this sex convention and request the large deposit that I put down, as I no longer wanted to go through with any of that which I signed up for, which was to be a slave. But that's not what happened. I was intimidated and made to strip in front of others or else lose all that money. Then they did as they wanted as they took me from room to special room as they did all the kinks that I had signed up for. And I can't even say how many times tonight I've regretted signing up when I was drunk as I was so very honest with the kinks I wanted to try.

I've been made into a hucow, complete with a bell strapped around my neck, was gangbanged by a group of ravenous men, was sodomized and abused by a pair of lesbians with strap on's, had my breasts tied, clamped and a leash attached to my nipples, was made into a gloryhole whore for both men and women, showered off in public and then just had a train ran on me by men with the largest member's I've ever had, where they used me in every possible way all at once even doing an Eiffel tower on me.

And now I'm being led through the main convention floor by the leash attached to my nipples, my body still coated with cum from the train that was run on me. Everyone can see all that's been done to me. Everyone can see the marks and bruises, like how my ass is red from being spanked repeatedly. Everyone can see that I am a slave that they could bid on during the auction, even if I'm still trying to think of a way out of this.

To make matters worse, one of my assistants from work just saw me like this. Stopped me and the little bitch even put her fingers on my clit knowing full well I couldn't do anything about it as my handler was watching. So she got to rub away on my sex, knowing what it would do to me, then laughingly stopped and implied she was going to bid on me. Oh how I dread going to work come Monday.

I come out of my daze of deep feelings and back to reality, where I'm walking in the middle of a huge crowd on the main convention floor. My tied breasts bounce with each step and I feel the cum on me starting to move downward. I keep my hands behind my head as I was told and my eyes stare forward in an attempt to not see the dozens if not hundreds of people looking at me...and smiling.

The guard who is leading me is clearly heading for a hallway up ahead, a hallway with the sign, "Restricted: Slave processing." I sigh when I read this as I know it means even more is about to be done to me. Even more of my dignity to be removed and replaced with a dark sexual urge. What doesn't help is that my guard is constantly being asked what is my slave number by people who mean to bid on me later.

As we walk into the brightly lit hallway, I am happy to be out of view of all those prying eyes. I'm not sure if I would be able to take seeing someone else I know. What if someone else from my work saw me like this? What if a neighbor? What if someone from my church? And what if it was someone I didn't like and they got to do something sexual to me? That would be more than I could take.

I'm led into the first room off the hallway, which is a locker room. The guard still says nothing as he leads me into it, past the benches and into the shower area. Oddly, there's no signs about if it is the male or female locker room. At this point I guess it doesn't matter.

The guard leads me into the shower area to which he brings to a wall with the shower head sticking out overhead. Not saying a word, the bastard takes the leash and ties it to the showerhead, as if I was a horse. Only to be an even more complete bastard, he keeps pulling on the leash until my tender boobs are pulled upward by the nipples, making me yelp out.

"Grab the head, and I mean the showerhead," the guard says and I hear the smirk on his voice, implying that I'm such a whore I might try to grab his manhood instead of the showerhead. Knowing that a retort would only lead to punishment, I lift both hands to the shower head while looking furious.

A moment later my hands are cuffed directly to the shower head, making sure I can't move from this position as both arms are pulled upward as if to match my boobs. Testing it, I find that the showerhead is very firm and there's no way I'm moving from this position. That I'm stuck like this, my breasts lifted upward as I stand on my tiptoes.

The guard then walks away while I hear footsteps coming towards me. A moment later, two women in bathing suits come up on either side of me. Without saying a word, one turns on the water, which pours down on my face. At first it is freezing, but it quickly turns warm. It actually feels good as the warm water goes all over my body, gently caressing my abused form.

I shudder as I feel cold goo being poured over me from overhead. Looking, I see the two women are pouring liquid soap over me. A moment later, they have loofahs with long handles...and start to clean me. They move the loofahs all over my naked body, cleaning away the sweat and cum that clung to me from the last room. Neither says anything as they do this, wiping away, then letting the water wash it off, only to put more soap and repeat. What makes it humiliating is that they make sure to keep their distance as if I'm that disgusting or that they might catch something.

One of the women smacks my ankle on the inside of my legs, implying very clearly for me to spread my legs. Humiliated by this, as full-grown women are cleaning me, I spread my legs and immediately feel the loofahs moving up and down my inner legs and thighs.

I groan and moan as they move over my womanhood, where they scrub and rub for quite a while, making sure that area is clean. They do the same with my breasts, only with them still tied and clamped, they couldn't really do that much. I feel very defiled and humiliated as these women clean my lady parts as if I was a car that rolled into the car wash.

"Oh, come on," I say as one of them takes a rag or sponge and I feel them cleaning between my cheeks in a very impersonal manner. My brief comment gets me a very hard and painful slap on my bare ass by one of the two women that makes me cry out. And that cry echoes back to me in this locker room.

"Shut up slave," the woman says, and slaps my bare wet ass again. Feeling the sting, my hips move forward from the pain where I learn to be quiet from now on. At that, they move to my face, cleaning it over and over along with my hair. Soon, my entire body is cleaned, even my feet as they make me lift them to be cleaned, one at a time.

The water is then turned off and they start to dry me off with towels and I will admit, I do feel so much cleaner. All the nasty cum is washed off, leaving me feeling so much cleaner and not like a whore. It's funny how much a shower can make you feel better, even if it is a shower where you are a slave and bound.

My hands are then uncuffed and taken off the shower head, only to be re-cuffed a moment later while in front of me. The leash is also untied from the shower head, leaving me free.

"Thank you ladies," a very smooth and silky female voice says. The two women walk off, still not saying a word to me. Nervous and a bit scared, I turn towards the new voice. There in front of me is a very pretty middle-aged woman in a cocktail dress. Instantly I can tell how she is very educated, very sophisticated and very confident in herself. I'm not sure how I know this, but I do.

"Follow me dearie," she tells me in that silky tone of hers and very gracefully walks towards a door in the back of the locker room. I don't move at first, wondering if this could be my chance to run off. To run to my car and go home. But when I think of it, I don't even have my keys. And after all, I do have a safe word, it's just I've never used it. And at this point, would it even work?

"I personally dislike leashes for new slaves, but if needed, I can use yours to put you in line," she says in such a smooth manner that it takes me a moment to realize that she was warning/threatening me. Something about her voice makes her seem so elegant and regal.

Enchanted by whomever she is, I find myself walking towards her, only, I put my cuffed hands back behind my head not because I'm scared of punishment, but because I want to make this woman to say how good I'm doing. I want her to compliment me, even if for something as lowly as being a good slave. And so, I follow behind her as she disappears into the next room.

"Come in and put the chain of your cuffs on the hook," she tells me as I enter the room. This room is a rather dim room with dark walls, but there are several lights pointed at the middle of the room, where there's a hook hanging from the ceiling on a long chain. In any other setting, this would look like a horror movie, but here it doesn't. It looks clean and warm, like a game among lovers.

Doing as I am told, I move into the middle of the room where my naked body is engulfed by the lights so all of me is seen. With a deep breath, I put my hands on either side of the hook so the chain of the cuffs rests on the point of the hook. Almost at once, the hook starts to lift, taking the chain with it. Within seconds my arms are lifted up to the point I am on my tiptoes and very uncomfortable.

"My name is Mistress Dee, and if I instruct you to talk, you will end everything with that name, do you understand?" The woman says in a rather cheery tone as she looks at me. Once she says this, she removes the leash from my nipples, and then straightens the cowbell that's around my neck.

"I...I....Y-Yes...M-M-Mistress Dee," I answer, my face reddening as I say her name. Once again I feel the shame and humiliation of such submission as I've never used that term before in this sort of setting. The only time I've ever said mistress was to describe a side piece of some loser that cheated on his wife. But now, it takes on a different meaning as me saying it means that I know she is better than me. That she is the one in charge, and I'm just...a slave. And it is clear that she loves my embarrassment as my red face makes her smile.

"You are here to be trained in how to be a slave. From what I have heard, you have been somewhat resistant to it, for which you have been punished, repeatedly. For someone like you, training would take days, if not weeks, but as we only have a single night, well, a few minutes more like it, we will need to use our time wisely, which means you treat each statement I make as if your life depends on it," she tells me.

I don't say anything to her but just look at her, feeling that familiar humiliation arousal creeping in as I'm naked and helpless in front of a grown woman again. An older woman at that. That she can see all of me and there's nothing I can do about it. She sees my breasts which are tied up and swollen. She sees my bare womanhood, which has had countless cocks inside of it tonight. And most importantly, she sees my face, and that I can't hide anything anymore.

"I have seen so many of you over the years. The curious who think they are brave enough to be a slave. They all think they want it, until they get a taste," she says with a rather devilish smile. It hits me how true this is. After all, I thought being a slave was just being ordered around to do sex acts, but I've found it is much, much more than that.

"First, you must give yourself a slave name. Your slave name is important as it lets everyone know the type of slave you are. Each slave is different and the name should show what makes them unique; some slaves love pain, other slaves prefer anal sex, some enjoy being shown off in public. Your name should also be demeaning enough that each time you say or hear it, it chips just a tiny bit from you to allow yourself to feel truly free and submissive. Now, from what I have heard tonight, you actually enjoy....everything, so may I suggest you pick something that you wish for your master to focus on," Mistress Dee explains in that silky tone, yet it is also very stern like a teacher.

"Before you tell me your slave name, please know, any response to pick a name that is not demeaning or humiliating towards you will be met with punishment, and my dear, I can assure you, punishment from me is pain you will not soon forget," she warns and I feel myself gulp.

A slave name? I have to pick a slave name for myself? Why can't they just call me Slave 34 or 43 or whatever they have been calling me? I don't want to make up a slave name for myself. Goodness, that sounds so damn humiliating. And why do I have to pick it? Why can't one of the many assholes here pick one, I know they want to. I guess that's the point. If I pick it, it'll break me just that tiny bit more.

My mind whirls as she stares at me, wanting to hear whatever name I've picked for myself. But I can't decide. Everything I think of I worry is not good enough, to which she will punish me. From "The Good Slave" to "Bessie," everything I think of sounds stupid and not like a name I would believe.

A groan exits my lips as a name pops in my head. It's the perfect name for me, but one that I do not want to be called. One that seems to fit given what they have done to me tonight. The one part of me that everyone has focused on or done something too. One that I know people would love. And I do not want to say it.

"I see you have picked the perfect name by the sound of that groan and the redness of your face," Mistress Dee says happily, revealing she is paying close attention to me. Her eyebrows are raised as she shows she wants to hear the name, right now.

"B-Bitchy McCowTitties," I answer as I look away, humiliation flooding me. Saying this seems to drain me of any resolve I had to get out of this situation. That name seems to confirm that this is exactly where I belong, strung up and answering to another woman that I don't even know. That I'm so stupid and pathetic I got myself in this position.

"Now, look at me and tell me, 'My name is..." and make sure you keep eye contract. A proper slave never breaks eye contact," she tells me in her silky manner while giving the aura of a stern teacher.

My eyes close and I hold my breath as a part of me wants to scream in frustrating and humiliation, while another part loves this. After I take my brief pause, I open my eyes and look into her fierce and fiery brown eyes.

"My name is Bitchy McCowTitties, M-Mistress Dee," I tell her while keeping eye contact. Immediately I feel my face redden as I can't believe I just called myself that. That I'm comparing myself and my breasts to a cow and calling myself a bitch. My face reddens more as I see the smile on her face grow wide. She likes the name.

"It is nice to meet you Bitchy McCowTitties," she says with that smile, looking like she is impressed by that name. She then keeps eye contact with me at saying this, like she's daring me to say something about the name like, "That's not my name!" But I say nothing and just look back.

"Next, whenever a slave is not in use, they need to stand in the proper way. As I said, I do not have time to go over each slave position that exists, but know that if you are in the room with your master, and if they have not told you how to stand or something to do, then you will stand with your legs spread nice and open, your hands behind your head, and your chest pushed out. This is the OPEN position. Do you understand?" She goes on to explain.

"Y-Yes Mistress Dee," I answer, thinking of how many times I've been made to do that exact pose tonight. Now it is starting to make sense. They were training me, no doubt thinking I should have already known.

"Let us test this then," she says, but the way she says it, I know there is more to it. Like this is some sort of test or another training. But the hook does come down, allowing me back to my feet completely.

With graceful movements, she not only undoes my cuffs, but she removes the nipple clamps as well. It takes me a few moments to get over the pain of the blood rushing back to my nipples, but once it does, I put my hands behind my head, spread my legs and then stick my tied breasts out.

"Another step that should take more time to go over is that you do whatever your master orders, without question. The only time you refuse is when your or another's life is in danger, or serious harm is to occur," Mistress Dee explains calmly.

"Since I do not have proper time to teach this, we will simply have to learn by doing," she goes on to explain. To this, I feel someone moving behind me. It's a strange feeling as I don't hear them, but I sense that someone is now behind me.

I go to turn my head to see who the new person is, but Mistress Dee suddenly grabs my chin in a vice like grip. Her fingers dig into my flesh, making it very painful. She forcefully keeps my face looking at her, where there's a very stern expression on her face.

"Did I say you could look behind you?" She asks in that stern manner. As she does this, I feel the person behind me kicking my legs apart. Unable to help it, I yelp out at this as I was expecting it. It takes all my might not to react like I want to, which is to close my legs and yank my head away from her gasp.

"N-No, Mistress Dee," I say after I realize she means for me to answer. Saying these words chips away at me more, as I can't believe that this woman clearly believes she is above me. But this thought leaves as I feel hands on my hips, forcing me to push my butt back. I begin to get a bit scared at this as I just was fucked 6 ways from Sunday. I'm not sure how much more I can take.

"Each time you disobey, do an act without permission or answer my questions incorrectly or without truth, my associate will...punish you," she tells me after letting my face go. With that confident walk of hers, she slowly guides around the room.

"We will start simple. Who owns your breasts?" She asks, and I'm a bit confused by this. Who owns them? What sort of question is that? Of course I do. I mean, they are attached to my body, so it's not like anyone else can own them.

"I-I do, Mistress Dee," I answer softly. To this she stops her walk and shakes her head NO very softly as if saying this is going to take a while. Suddenly, something as large as a tennis ball is pressed against my clit from beneath/behind me. Only, it is vibrating, HARD.

Vibrations cover not just my clit but damn near all of my womanhood. These vibrations are fierce to, not traveling out but inside, making it as if the feeling is coming from within me. The feeling produces tingles that are unlike anything I've ever seen.

At once I start to moan loudly as it is the most intense and arousing thing I've felt all night. And the moans come without me meaning to do them either. It's just the fact that this is so intense and powerfully arousing that my body feels like it is betraying me. This has to be from the fact that I've been worn down, so any defenses I've had must all but be gone. It vibrates hard and fast, sending intense pleasure and pain over me as instantly I think I'm about to cum.

"No, no, I mean...I mean...I mean, my master owns my tits," I stammer, overwhelmed by the vibrations and barely even able to think. Then the ball is removed, leaving me panting and gasping. Even with it gone, I feel that area still buzzing from whatever the hell that was. I can't believe how powerful whatever that this was. How it produces such intense pleasure but awful pain as well.